Those Were the Days

I wrote this poem after watching a little girl standing in line with her mother at a restaurant today. She was five or six and twirled and skipped in her lightweight school uniform. Every few minutes her head would tilt up looking heavenward at her mother and her still pudgy face would beam with enamoured worship. I found tears coming to my eyes as I realized that Abbey has now moved past that wonderful age of spontaneous delight and unquestioning faith.

Paradise Lost

The bubbling, boisterous

Energy has quieted

And sits hiding helplessly

Behind the perfect pout

Or the rolled eyes of

Disdain for the inhabitant no longer

On that parent pedestal

Where three-year-olds gaze in

Awe of

Knowledge

Strength

Ability

Love and

Answers

to WHY?

Now Mommy is mute to

Ears filled with friends'

Noisy whispers of doubt,

Comparisons and complicated

Social standing.

My once bouncing, dancing, hand-holding

Daughter no longer

Holds my opinion so close,

So trusted, and her

Eyes flash in independence when

I suggest that she let her face know she's happy and

Smile.

Holes In My Hopeful Hot Air Balloon

A few weeks ago, in the middle of the night, I woke up to Brett talking to me, but making no sense. I was staring at the light fixture above our bed, wondering what was going on and why Brett's voice sounded all loud and excited. I tried to turn over. I tried to ask him what was going on. I couldn't. I had no control over normally easy tasks. Then it slowly dawned on me that I was coming out of a dangerously low insulin reaction. The light fixture remained fascinating to me for about five minutes, but slowly I could nod my head to Brett's questions, and I was understanding those questions as well. Eventually I became coherent and realized I was drenched, and I mean drenched, in sweat. My pajamas felt like I had been in the shower fully clothed. I slowly got up with Brett's help. I told him I needed to shower and change all my clothes. As I got in the shower I battled dizziness and realized that I probably should have had Brett hold me up or something. I finished rinsing off and SLOWLY got dressed. I was exhausted.

After getting dressed, I got back into bed and looked at Brett's pale, scared face. He was as worn out as I was. I asked him what had happened. He told me that he had awakened and heard me breathing with very shallow breaths. He tried to wake me, but couldn't get me to respond coherently. He ran and got orange juice and managed to get some down my throat before I spilled most of it all over the bed. He said I still had a glazed expression on my face and wouldn't respond. That's when he went for the glucagon kit. He injected me, then gave me more orange juice. I guess that is the point when I woke up looking at the light fixture. I don't remember anything before that silly light fixture.

So my disease has come to this. I have tried so hard to control the uncontrollable for so many years. I have made myself a pin cushion, spent more money than I even want to count, and spent the equivalent of months of my life in waiting rooms and with medical professionals, all to combat this diabetic assault. I always thought I would be able to laugh and scoff when I looked at the bright red glucagon kit I would get every year at the pharmacy as a precaution and then throw away after it expired. Well, this one didn't get a chance to expire. I never planned to use the thing. My doctor, the inspired man that he is, wrote the prescription this time for THREE kits. I really didn't want to pay for that many, but forgot to tell the pharmacist to only give me one. When three showed up in the huge bag of medical supplies I had to pack for Qatar, I just threw them in the luggage because they were there, never in my life thinking they would be needed.

I think fixating on that red glucagon kit and what it represents is my way of not going completely crazy thinking about what is down the road with this disease. I have always been hopeful and positive, proactive about prevention and diabetic care, but the last few years have put some holes in that hopeful hot air balloon. Those holes are mostly about letting Brett down and being so dependent. I heard him tell his mom over Skype that he didn't ever want to go out of town without me, because that would mean I would have to sleep alone, and he couldn't allow that. It is pretty humbling to have to have a babysitter at the age of 46. I'm so glad to have such a wonderfully patient one. Brett never complains about all the costs this disease has racked up, and I don't just mean the dollar costs. He is amazing, but I was the one who was supposed to be amazing by taking care of the world! I want to be the caregiver, the vigilant one. It is also humbling to realize that I am a different mother to Abbey than with Kristy and Ben, and not just because of my age.

Well, coming close to my own mortality recently has made me reflect on many things, but I have mostly thought about the blessings of my life. Diabetes has been a blessing in the most twisted of ways. I have gained more empathy, more patience, more humility, and more realistic expectations for myself and others. Diabetes has forced me to let go of the excess that doesn't matter. I don't sweat the small stuff anymore. I just sweat the big, humungous stuff like insulin reactions in the middle of the night - literally.

Five Ways How to Tease Your Dad

Last week when Abbey was home sick from church, she kept herself busy making this little poster and putting it up proudly in Brett's studio. It is difficult to read from the poor photo, not to mention the creative spelling, so I typed out all the helpful hints here:

The Napkin Joke

1. He asks for a napkin

2. Get one napkin

3. Give it to yourself

4. Act natural

5. See what happens

The Chocolate Stealer

1. Get all the chocolate and put it in your room

2. He goes to the kitchen for chocolate

3. You tell him he needs to buy more

4. Do it again

5. You do it until he notices

The Sassy Joke

1. He tells you to clean your room

2. You say, "I know you do but what do I do?"

The Tack Joke

1. Get a tack

2. Put it on Dad's chair in the middle

3. He sits back up with a tack on his pants

The Eating Joke

1. It is dinner time

2. You ask your dad to get you a drink

3. He gets you one

4. You go to the garbage and throw it away

I would say that last one is going too far, don't you? It's no wonder Brett has a slight twitch these days. Daddies are just too fun to tease, I guess. Although he gives as good as he gets, so don't feel too sorry for him! What would your list look like?

October in Doha

Last year we were in Utah for Ben's wedding so we didn't get to see what Halloween is like here in Doha. This year was different, and I don't know about other compounds in Qatar, but ours really knows how to do Halloween right.

Denise is one of our great neighbors and she planned the whole week. First she held a craft activity on Wednesday for the children at the clubhouse where they got to decorate their trick or treat bags, make ghosts, dead fingers out of clay, etc. They loved it. It was quite interesting to hear her British accented voice directing the fun.



Then Denise planned and hosted the Halloween night. In front of her villa she decorated in true western style, complete with a talking skeleton that had an eyeball pop out of its socket and a bob for apples station. The children posed for pictures, then another neighbor Johnny, who is known for his shy reclusive ways (NOT!), led the children in a Halloween parade around the compound. They screamed, they walked like zombies, they cackled like witches, they stomped like Frankenstein, and just plain had a blast entertaining the neighborhood and especially the workers of our compound. The men from the Phillipines, Malaysia, and India stood in awe of this very strange western tradition but then joined in with werewolf howls and scary yells of approval.

After the parade the children were let loose to trick or treat to their hearts' content. Denise had sent around signs with the party invitations that neighbors could post on their doors letting the children know which villas would be handing out treats. I think most of the neighbors participated - even Matheena, who had a baby on Wednesday, was on the porch with her pink bundle greeting the goblins. Abbey's bag was full after only a few minutes. Then everyone gathered in front of Denise's villa for a pot luck dinner. The children had no desire to eat because another neighbor named Justice generously donated his Jeep or Landrover (who knows?), loaded it with hay, and gave "hay rides" to anyone who wanted to go. He never tired of driving around and around the compound loop, and the smiles on the faces of those kids kept the hay rides going for at least an hour. The food was so good and so diverse with Indian samosas, vegetable pizza, hot dogs, my white chili, three layer bean dip, kabobs, and Arabic food I don't know the name for. It was truly a night of multiple cultures coming together for a unique western celebration.

As I sat there soaking in the atmosphere, I could almost imagine myself on main street U.S.A enjoying a traditional spooky party with neighbors. It even feels like Utah at times when I socialize with the four families on our street who are also members of our church (what are the odds, huh?). If it hadn't been for the 90 something degree temperature, it would have been a little easier to transport my imagination, but as it was, the evening was perfect. Abbey was so, so happy to be running around like a goblin with all the other monsters. The only thing that marred the evening was Abbey's trick or treat bag went missing. She cried big tears and said, "I don't need the candy, but now I don't have anything that proves I went trick or treating." Since she was cheated out of trick or treating last year because we were flying back to Qatar from Utah, I felt all the more sorry for her. Thankfully this morning my neighbor Terah brought over Abbey's bag with an apology about her son mixing their bags up. Abbey will be thrilled to see it this afternoon after she gets home from school.

So that was just Halloween and the week before. The week before the week before Halloween I was busy with room mother duties - decorating the classroom door and delivering donuts on the dress-up day. Brett helped me with the decorating, so I think it turned out to be one of the best displays. Abbey and Mrs. Errico had to explain the "count" reference, but they thought it was nice and scary. I also had a swim party for my Activity Day Primary girls on Saturday. They are a wonderful group and keep me on my toes. That same day Abbey, Brett, and I attended a function at the American Ambassador's home that was hosted by his wife Ellie LeBaron. Every month she hosts Americana for Children activities that are meant to give expat children some good experiences and lessons about American history, culture, and patriotism. We got our photo op with Mrs. LeBaron (a distant relation, I'm sure) and learned more about Columbus (for Columbus Day). It was so good to see the American flag flying over the residence and the flag ceremony at the activity. America is my favorite land hands down. So it is no wonder that I ended up with a cold and cough that kept me home most of last week. This old grandma woman is not as young as she used to be. Kristy and Ben had the advantage of my youth. Abbey has the advantage of my wisdom and experience. I guess there is no perfect parent out there.

So how was your Halloween? I hope you got as many treats as we did.